Eyes on fire
by Withering Hights
Summary: Months after the demise of the foul dragon Deathwing, Jaina Proudmoore has a recurring nightmare. It drifts a wedge between her and her female Warlock lover.
1. Chapter 1

Months after the demise of the foul dragon Deathwing, Jaina Proudmoore has a recurring nightmare. It drifts a wedge between her and her female Warlock lover.

 _Note: after playing games like WoW and Dragon Age for a long time, and my daily job – amongst other things – being a copywriter / final editor, I suddenly surprised myself in not having fully acknowledged the wonderful pleasure of rewriting canon lore. I have always, with great pleasure, read the often enticing and beautiful stories of very accomplished writers in English. But it never occurred to me – since my mother tongue is Dutch – that I could give it a go myself._

 _Note 2: inspiration for this story came from the track Blue Foudation - Eyes on fire._

 _Disclamer: sadly enough, I do not own Jaina Proudmoore or any other WoW characters, but the young warlock Morgana is entirely mine._

 _So here we are. My first ever posting on a fanfic site._

 _Seriously, I have no clue._

 _Please forgive me my bad grammar, and other mistakes in Universal Language. I would love to be tutored._

 _Don't be too harsh on me tho…_

* * *

 **Eyes on fire**

 **Part 1**

I listen to the distant sounds of the Dustwallow marsh while I caress her. She moans in her sleep. Not the exquisite, enticing moans of our lovemaking earlier tonight. I can see her eyes fluttering, restless beneath her eyelids. She's having nightmares again.

I think of the wonderful beasts that live in the ancient swamp. The faint sounds of hissing raptors and croaking frogs float through the window of Jaina's bedroom, accompanied by the first light of dawn. It makes me wonder. What horrors haunt her in her dreams?

She has not been herself of late.

I am confused. After the demise of Deathwing, Azeroth is finely coming to a well-deserved rest. Theramore was heavily damaged during the cataclysm, but even so quickly rebuilt.

I ponder the day I saw this beautiful woman for the first time. It was at the meeting of the Honour Delegation in Stormwind. A weighty gathering of politicians, nobles, delegates. Among them the Lady Jaina Proudmoore, Leader of the Kirin Tor, Ruler of Theramore, still grieving over her treacherous prince. But even more concerned than ever, with the rising tensions between the Horde and the Alliance.

I could never have imagined that she would be in my arms now.

Jaina has gone through a lot. I know that. But I have a history of my own.

I was not always the one with whom the powerful Archmage can rest, and be vulnerable, after she makes decisions about the future of a world. I was not always the one to whom she can find discharge, after her always impetuous - though measured - performances, as one of the most important leaders of Azeroth.

The world is watching Jaina. But no one sees her as I see her now. Drained - in a pleasant way - after our lovemaking. Vulnerable, incredibly beautiful.

Jaina struggles with her abhorrent dream and tries to wake up with all her might. For the umpteenth time, she has the same nightmare, in which everything she loves, goes down in a heinous blast of purple-blueish light that changes the world forever. Deep down she knows that the foreboding will come to pass. That there is nothing she can do to prevent it.

Eventually she is awakened by desperate crying. When she feels the comforting grip of Morgana's strong arms, she realizes that it is her own cries.

Morgana holds her firmly and whispers comforting words.

As she opens her eyes and looks into the loving, purple gaze of the female warlock, the powerful mage feels ever so grateful that she has met this young woman, who gives her the sense of security she no longer can get hold of herself.

"Jaina?"

The Lady of Theramore feels Morgana's warm body against her own nakedness, and memories of the hours earlier come to surface. Despite herself, Jaina feels the warm glow between her legs again, which fortunately has not been dispelled by her horrible dreams.

Morgana observes her with a worried look, gently wiping the tears from her cheeks.

Jaina wants to reassure her lover, but knows she would have to lie. How can she tell the raven-haired warlock that their remaining time together might be short? How can she appease her own fear? She is a powerful mage, she tells herself. But she knows her dreams are not mere dreams. They are omens of disaster and doom.

"Are you okay my love?"

In response, Jaina treats her lover to small, sweet kisses. First lovingly, but soon the kisses are filled with desire. The female Archmage can't help herself. From the moment the dreams started, her need for the soothing touch of Morgana has become near obsessive.

She knows that Morgana knows this.

It does not matter to her. She wants to polish away the dreams with erotic glory. She wants to forget.

Morgana is a lot younger than she is herself. Apparently outside of her own knowledge, the owner of a delightful body. Morgana's skin is of the fairest porcelain. Her small, delicate breasts firm and high. Her raven locks fall forward onto Jaina's breasts, as the girl looks into her blue eyes. Jaina's nipples immediately respond to the subtle touch. The Archmage sighs with a thrill of arousal.

The female warlock studies her with eyes that glow purple. A consequence of the Fel magic she wields. The girl refuses to tell Jaina whom was her master in the dark arts. It frustrates her. How is it possible? How did her sweetheart acquire this knowledge at her age? Most warlocks need a lifetime for it, if ever.

Morgana, as young as she is, is the only warlock Jaina has ever met, who does not succumb to the extremely addictive energy of the Fel magic. She wields it sparingly, with deadly efficiency. The Archmage has observed many a foe misjudge the young woman's seductive and innocent appearance.

An error that none of them lives to tell.

"Tell me love, what happens in your dreams?"

Jaina Proudmoore cannot keep her eyes from the pink nipples, swaying close to her face. Just like the icing on a cake, delicious in every way. They defy Jaina, stiff and mischievously. Probably more of the cool morning air, than of excitement, she considers.

Despite her age, the young Lock has a low and slightly hoarse voice. Listening to her is enticing, no matter what comes out of the pretty girls mouth.

Morgana has no fault that Jaina can see, her perfection magnified by the early morning sun, streaming through the window.

A hot throbbing starts between her legs.

Oh yes. This is what the blonde mage desires most now. This is what she needs.

Instead of answering the girl, she locks eyes with the beautiful sorceress. Without a word, Jaina starts to touch her breasts, very gently rubbing the erect nipples with her thumbs.

Morgana looks back at her. Silent. Knowing.

Jaina hates herself, but she knows she's in for a bedroom rodeo.

We have been through this before. As much as I covet the touch of my mistress, I know that something is wrong. I know Jaina is trying to hide something. I just can't read her anymore. She keeps shutting me out.

She has been like this for weeks now.

The righteous and merciful ruler of Theramore, darling of the Alliance, can be incredibly selfish and arrogant, if she's not comfortable in her skin. A side of her she allows few people to see, I think. A doubtful honour.

However much I love her, I loathe her when she is like this.

I know what game she plays, and I won't play along this time. I can sense something is terribly wrong.

"Talk to me Jaina. _What_ is going on?"

The beloved and merciful Lady of Theramore Isle, choses to ignore my worry. Instead, she lets go of my nipples. Then she draws my naked body over hers, with great demand.

I lie on top of her, unmoving, feeling her magnificence. Hot skin, nipples hard.

"Touch me", she hisses. "Like this."

Her hands are hard on my waist, my buttocks, gripping my thighs, searching my breasts. The exquisite sensations mix oddly with the faint, bestial sounds from the marsh. I can feel lust stirring in my loins.

Her face becomes twisted, the picture of naked arousal. I wonder what her many admirers would think if they could see her now. Scared and desperate, clinging to a female warlock almost half her age. The traces of tears still on her now flushed cheeks.

In a wicked moment I think of sharing my thoughts with her.

Never. I could never hurt her. Not like that.

She pushes her tong against my lips, licks me, bites me. Not stopping. So good.

A warm hand hits upon my now red-hot pussy.

I can't help myself.

We exchange fiery kisses. She smiles, growls approvingly, thinking she has won.

She should know better by now.

I deny her the touch she craves so badly.

I know her letch is mixed with guilt. I know the tears will come again when she is relieved. No matter how powerful she is when she performs her office, she knows perfectly well that I am the strongest of us.

 _I could flay her alive. One word and she won't survive. I'm not scared of her power. I see right through her any hour._

She feels my resistance and plays her ace.

She stops kissing me. Withdraws her hand from my begging sex, and lets her head sink into the pillow.

I feel a desperate sense of loss.

"My darling Morgana, have we ended up here again? Playing the worried good girl, hm?"

Her voice all sweet and husky.

We look into each other's eyes. Icey blue against deviant purple. Her eyes are on fire.

"I know you think you have to protect me. I know that that is just about _the_ goal in your life. But you can let it go now, poppet. I don't need your protection. I just need you to fuck me."

With her left hand she grabs my hair and pulls my face very close to hers. Her right hand goes down to my pussy. Skilfully she spreads the sensitive sides of my sex. She pushes her middle finger deep inside me, and makes maddening laps.

I am overcome by lust, despite of myself.

She studies me, amused, whilst continuing her ministrations.

I hear myself moaning, panting, against her cheek. Trying to catch my breath. Trying to resist.

It is not a pleasant sound.

Is this what she wants?

I think of it. As far as I _can_ think, feeling her inside of me.

Jaina Proudmoore will never, ever, give anyone a true glimpse into her soul.

In a stolen moment, I muse over the men and women - that I know of - she has denied. Thrall, Warchief of the Horde, madly in love with the Human mage. She never even considered. Kael'thas Sunstrider, Prince of Quel'Thalas, put aside for a treacherous Human prince. Aegwynn, ageless mother of the sorcerer Medivh. Her might in service the Burning Legion, but secretly in love with the female leader of the Kirin Tor. And last but not least, her bodyguard, the strikingly attractive Night Elf Pained. Who is no doubt listening right now, behind the closed doors of Jaina's private quarters, to our painful, maddening love game.

The most powerful, charismatic creatures of Azeroth have wooed her. Man or woman, she let them shit the creek when it comes to love. Jaina only ever wilfully surrendered to the erratic emotions of the foulest creature ever to set foot on Azeroth.

And to me.

I know she loves me. But sometimes I wonder. What am I to her?

When I first met her, The Archmage had never been with a woman before. My once student has disturbingly fast become my equal in the fine art of lesbian lovemaking.

When her finger shows up again, it is shimmering wet. She looks at it triumphantly, and then puts it in her mouth. She tastes me, licks the finger slowly, seductively.

"Honey, still defiant?" Her voice all sweet and playful. "It seems to me that you are enjoying yourself. Why deny yourself the pleasure, hm? I know you want to talk. We can do that. Later. But we cannot talk down the fact that you want to feel me in that horny pussy of yours, just as much as I want to feel you… Am I wrong?"

Her conversational tone infuriates me, just like her refusal to take my concerns seriously.

I slap her in the face. Not very hard, but painful enough to get her attention.

The spot on her cheek where I hit her, leaves a slightly red mark.

I know her well. This is exactly what she wants.

Jaina doesn't miss a beat and smiles her sweetest smile. "Well well, putting up a fight now, are we?"

In one agile move, she raises. The blonde mage pulls me my by my hair onto the bed. She moves her body on mine, and with her right leg she cleverly spreads my legs. Then she pushes her hip against my soaring cunt and lusts up and down.

O my god.

"Jaina", I gasp.

The Archmage leans on her arms, her royal breasts jiggling above me while she moves. Her right hand goes down again. She pulls her hip back and lets her hand rest on my sopping cunt. I cannot help it and moan long and deeply.

Her fingers teasingly start exploring my most sensitive parts. She keeps her eyes locked on mine, and again smiles her most seductive smile, almost comforting.

"Does this feel good, my love?"

I am overcome.

I can feel my juice pouring out of me, flooding her hand, in soaking wet waves.

I don't want her to stop. I am no longer capable of resisting her.

I know she knows.


	2. Chapter 2 The gift of vulnerability

**Eyes on fire**

 **Chapter 2: The gift of vulnerability**

F/F, Jaina Proudmoore/OC, Femslash, Romance, Hurt, lesbian sex, Light SM, Smut, World of Warcraft, warlock, mage, before the destruction of Theramore, some canon lore, inspiration based on the track: Blue Foundation – _Eyes on fire_.

 _When Jaina wakes up, it comes to a lewd showdown between the mage and Morgana._

 _Note: this is the sequel to Eyes on fire – chapter one. As inexperienced as I am with writing fanfic, and posting stuff, it may be that I did not state clearly enough after chapter 1, that that was the first chapter. You might want to read that part before indulging this one._

 _Note 2: I wanted to explore the power struggle between Jaina and Morgana, and their past, not ignoring the consequences of it on their sexual relationship. Sometimes love is found in the places we least expect it. In the next chapter, tears will flow. But for now, they are fighting their love battle._

 _Note 3: Yes, my mother tongue is Dutch, but by the Light, who will stop me from trying?_

* * *

Morgana lies on her back on the bed, naked, groaning under her breath. Jaina has the beguiling girl right where she wants her. She keeps lusting her hip up and down against the young woman's lecherous pussy, eyes fixed on the purple gaze. Gone is the resistance, no more fighting. What is left is anger. And lust. Or so the mage likes to think.

 _Oh my, so beautiful when she's angry._

The Leader of the Kirin Tor treats her willing victim to a few more lascivious strokes against her pussy, until she is sure that the comely enchantress is completely lost. The Archmage feels Morgana's hands on her behind, desperately trying to tighten the grip of the blonde's hip against her succulent core.

The feisty young warlock moans and begs, much to Jaina's delight. She chuckles inside. Did the wizard-girl really think she's in charge? She feels the young woman's wetness on her hip accumulating with her every move.

"My sweet little treasure," Jaina pants, "you do enjoy this, don't you? It must be annoying, not being able to rely on your clever Shadow-tricks... right now…". The mage leans back a bit and lends the girl a thumb against her clit, not moving, just managing the slightest pressure.

Morgana responds to the delightful sensation with a loud shriek. She frantically starts thrusting her drenched womanhood up against Jaina's hand, desperately seeking the stimulation she craves.

Jaina feels a cruel, lustful power building up inside. "No exciting spell to hide behind? Too hard to concentrate, hm? Just imagine… All those glorious victories over gruesome adversaries… And here you are, crying like a helpless little whore…"

Jaina's tranquil, sensuous voice makes Morgana shiver. She seems lost, mumbling some unintelligible words, uncontrollably grabbing at Jaina, moaning loudly now.

Jaina heightens the pressure of her thumb on the girls sweet spot, and makes a few skilful, soft swirls, triggering more delightful moans from the young warlock.

In all of Azeroth there are no more powerful spell casters to be found, than the two women whom are now fighting their agonizing love battle. Tightly knit, like the Shadow and Arcane energies they control, they are bound in their grief, their strength, their weaknesses… And in the horrendous memories that haunt them, of the Plague that was spread throughout Lordaeron by Jaina's former lover.

They have lost many loved ones. They both felt helpless and betrayed, not so long ago. The Lich King destroyed nearly everything but their souls.

Jaina faintly remembers the words of her tutor.

"… _not for idle hands, nor prying eyes. The Arcane powers must be used wisely. Stay your hand, my friend, and proceed - if you know the way."_

Suddenly, she is fully aware of what she's doing. Again. Of how wrong it is, to humiliate her lover like this. It gives her such pleasure, but at the same time she feels a deep sadness dawning.

Her whole life she spent working for the weak. It is her greatest wish to give strength to those who are subordinate and in need for help. And yet here she is, degrading the one person in Azeroth that is most dear to her.

She despises herself.

Still, she cannot fight back the overwhelming, violent desire that burns her to the core. And she knows the warlock enjoys this as much as she does. Their labour of love enables the women to reduce the negative energies, to let go, to relinquish. Only like this, can they allow themselves the gift of vulnerability.

"Antonidas!", she screams, and plunges three fingers into Morgana.

x0x

I think I'm going crazy. Her foul, horny talk, combined with the wonderful feeling of her thrusting fingers inside me, bring me to the edge of surrender. I can hear myself wailing, begging to the Old Gods.

"Oooh yes… oooh yes, by the Shadow Flames… take me!"

Jaina fucks me even harder now. Her fingers rage in and out of me. So delicious. I am quite certain I will die if she stops now.

"Don't stop… please, don't stop! Oh Jaina… Fuck me, please, fuck me… harder!

 _This cannot be true. This cannot happen – not while I'm so worried, feeling so much love for the besotted sorceress, who apparently thinks she's the strongest now. She will not get away with it this time._

I know her weakness.

While being wrecked by the female Arcane-wielder, I conjure up a desperate plan.

I concentrate, and shut myself off of the delicious ramming that goes on inside me. Then I raise my head and move my arms behind Jaina's head. Forcefully, I pull the beautiful mage closer, and then I start licking away at the breast that hovers above my face.

x0x

For a brief moment Jaina is set back, caught by surprise. The sensation of her passionate lover's hot, wet tongue on her very sensitive nipple, is incredibly enticing. Overwhelmingly so.

Morgana let's go of her head. Jaina feels the girl's seeking hands on her thighs now, stroking the inner sides, touching her drenched cunt.

For a moment, the blonde mage is over-poised to let herself go. Just for a few seconds, she allows herself to indulge the exquisite sensation of Morgana's touch. Then she regains her power, and gets back on to her game.

"Cunning, my dear Morgana…," she groans," "…very cunning indeed!".

 _I won't soothe her pain_

 _I won't ease her strain_

 _She'll be waiting in vain_

 _I got nothing for her to gain…_

 _Her eyes are fire, her spine is ablaze_

 _Felling this foe with my gaze_

 _And just in time_

 _In the right place, steadily emerging with grace…_

In one forceful move, Jaina turns the female wizard around, flat on her stomach. She positions her lover's arms above her head. The powerful, elder woman is fairly clear about the following events.

"Do not, for a moment, take the idea into your pretty little head to move," The Archmage rules.

Morgana shivers at the command and stays put.

Jaina strategically figures out her position behind the girl, grabbing the warlock by the waist, pulling her up a little. The view is overwhelming. Morgana's hot ass is right in her face now, along with everything else, leaving the girl bend over and helpless. Morgana moans, almost inaudible, subdued and in anticipation.

Jaina Proudmoore suppresses a lustful moan of herself. For the second time, the mage spreads the girl's legs. The young wizard keeps leaning forward at Jaina's constraint. Reluctantly, yet willing, it seems to Jaina, Morgana spreads her legs very wide, the glistening pink pussy right in her face. The Archmage almost comes undone at the sight.

 _By the Tome of Divinity. This girl is going to be my death_.


	3. Chapter 3: Ancient history

**Eyes on fire**

 **Chapter 3: Ancient history**

 **F/F, M, NC17, AU** , Jaina Proudmoore/OC, World of Warcraft, Jaina Proudmoore/Vareesa Windrunner, Arthas, The Lich King, Vareesa Windrunner/Rhonin Redhair, Kalecgos, Femslash, Romance, Hurt, Lesbian Sex, Light SM, Smut, Fluff, Powerful women, Female leaders, World of Warcraft before the destruction of Theramore, Explorers League, Dwarves, Humans, Elves, Warlock vs Mage, Quel'Thalas, Theramore, Stormwind, Stormwind Keep Throne Room, Dustwallow Marsh, and loads of canon lore, this time.

 _The creatures of the Dustwallow Marsh wake up, simultaneously with two beautiful, powerful enchantresses. Jaina Proudmoore and Morgana fight their battle of love until tears flow. In the meantime, memories come to surface._

 **Note:** the fair Lady Jaina Proudmoore could never have imagined she would go down on a woman. Holy Runes, how did this happen? How did she meet the feisty young warlock? What is the girl's secret? And what's the story with Jaina and the High Elven Ranger Vereesa Windrunner? That's what I am exploring in this chapter.

 **Note 2:** timeline is set shortly before the destruction of Theramore. A lot of canon lore, partly based on the book _Arthas, rise of the Lich King,_ by Christie Golden.

 **Note 3:** inspiration for the first chapters was based on the track: Blue Foundation – _Eyes on fire_.

 **Disclaimer:** sadly enough, Jaina Proudmoore and other WoW-characters are not mine by right and imagination. I wish. The young warlock Morgana however, is entirely mine.

* * *

The wizzardgirl laid flat on her stomach, bend over on the bed. She could hear the creepy sounds of the strange beasts from the Dustwallow Marsh, floating in through the open window, accompanied by the fresh morning air. Violent cries, bestial shrieks, and Jaina Proudmoore's suppressed, lustful humming behind her, the powerful mage pressing her onto the sheets.

She loathed the fact that the imperious mage had overpowered her - once more – but she undeniably longed for what awaited her. Morgana knew very well that her profit was in her loss.

She couldn't help but spreading her legs wide and willingly, invitingly, moaning softly in anticipation. The sorceress could tell she was in for a treat.

x-0-x

The greatly respected, level-headed diplomat of Azeroth enjoyed the view for a moment. The female Archmage always had an eye for the beauty of women. During her many diplomatic missions throughout Azeroth, she met quite a few charismatic, powerful, and very attractive female leaders. Be they of the Horde or the Alliance, Elven, Human, Forsaken, or of the Tauren tribe… As lonely - and at times longing - Jaina might have felt, she never thought of her female counterparts as potential lovers. She did not think about love at all, after the demise of the Lich King. Yet, in dealing with the other leading women of Azeroth, at times she found herself caught up in an uncomfortable need for… more connection.

For a moment, Jaina reflected on the overwhelming attraction she felt a few years back, when she first met the High Elven Ranger Vereesa Windrunner. Youngest of the illustrious Windrunner-sisters, mate of her Human colleague, the mage Rhonin Redhair. Nearly all of Vareesa's extended family were killed by Orcs in the Second War, and in Arthas' invasion of Quel'Thalas. Jaina felt a strong connection in their joint losses. But above all, during their polite and warlike conversations, the icey mage felt an almost uncontrollable longing stirring in her loins.

She skilfully kept indifferent though, to the feisty, elite female Elf. Being a veteran mage, her above average measure of self-control prevented her from the pleasant rapprochements she secretly had in mind with the beautiful Elf. It was only when meeting the young, Human warlock Morgana, that Jaina Proudmoore became fully aware of her erotic desire for women. And in particular for the incredibly beautiful woman that now laid before her.

Jaina pondered this, while enjoying the spectacle of Morgana's collected femininity, in timid expectation, spread out in front of her like a freshly flowered Arthas' Tear.

In the deepest dark of night, the Archmage often woke up to the recollection of her and Arthas, camping overnight in the Hillsbrad area, during the escort to Dalaran. She remembered them munching on dry bread, enjoying some cheese and watered wine together, talking and laughing for hours.

Just for a short while, the mage allowed herself to ponder the memory of how enamoured she felt about the gallant Crown Prince of Lordaeron, whom conjured up an exciting little escape from the ever watchful gaze of the Royal Guardsmen, so they could have some moments to themselves.

It seemed like ancient history. Almost as if it never happened. She was still so young at the time, and totally inexperienced in the field of love…

Love.

Jaina grabbed the girl's waistline and pulled the warlock closer to her. She let her right-hand rest a bit on Morgana's soaked pussy, triggering a loud shriek from the girl.

With her left-hand, she grabbed a handful of the wizzardgirl's raven hair and yanked her head closer. Morgana gasped, her body shivering in anticipation. The blonde brought her mouth very close to the sorceress' ear. "Are you ready, my sweet girl?"

x-0-x

Two searching fingers start a luscious pressure on my throbbing core, and I feel a thumb effortlessly entering me. Her other fingers are on my soft folds. I faintly hear my own desperate, needy whimpering, almost as if I am listening to some other girl being taken by her lover.

"Ohhhhh yes. O Yes! Please.. Jaina please…". I don't even know what I'm begging for, exactly.

Jaina starts a slow pace, alternatingly moving her thumb in and out of me and rubbing my clit with two fingers. The maddening, gentle pressure on my red-hot core brings me very close to the edge, but not quite close enough.

Oh, how I love her. How I need her right now.

I remember our first encounter, a few years earlier, at the Honour Delegation in Stormwind. The dome-shaped hall of the Stormwind Keep Throne Room, packed with everyone in the Alliance whom mattered, surrounded by the Royal Guard.

Politicians, nobles, delegates, amongst them illustrious personalities like the High Elven ranger Vareesa Windrunner, and her Human husband and Kirin Tor-leader Rhonin. Beside him the Lady of the Theramore Isles - Jaina Proudmoore, and the Dwarven King Magni Bronzebeard. Even the Blue Dragon-Aspect Kalecgos was present, standing behind the female Archmage.

The Throne room was filled with a muffled, excited humming of voices. Ceremonial court rules dictated that the aristocrats be dressed in Royal Attire. I couldn't help but to notice the Windrunner Ranger, dressed in the Robes of the Royal Crown. The white dress with black edges, trimmed with gold stitching. It looked stunning on her. She wore the typical, red velvet vest over it. So different from her usual, combat-rogue leathers, I thought.

Her husband Rhonin was standing to her right, and to Vareesa's left was the Lady Proudmoore, in full Mountainsage-attire. A white-silken dress, trimmed with gold embroidery. The purple, velvet tunic emphasized her beautiful, feminine forms. A greyish-white streak ran through her blonde locks.

I still remember how the beauty of the older woman touched me that day.

I kept to myself in the shadows of the alcove left to the throne, close to the Archbishop Benedictus, who was leading the ceremony. Occasionally I got wondering glances.

Nobody except the King of Stormwind - Varian Wrynn, and Magni, knew who I was. Probably the bishop knew it too. And that it was because of my connection with the Dwarven king that I was present at this weighty gathering.

Nobody knew that my parents had been mages whom had studied the fine arts of the Arcane magic in Dalaran, many years ago. When Dalaran found itself powerless to stop the dark Prince Arthas during The Third War, and the foul warlock Archimonde was about to destroy the city, my desperate parents asked a Dwarf - about to flee the doomed city - to take me with him to safety. I was only an infant at the time. Torgal Stromheart, member of the Explorers League and nephew of Yorg Stormheart, king of the Frostborn Dwarves, took me back to his hometown Frosthold in the Storm Peaks region of Northrend, and raised me as his own, together with his kind hearted wife Dmalaa.

Not a one in the gathering knew of my travels through Azeroth, and my love for the incredibly dangerous, and yet caring Human warlock Mvrik. Or of the dark forces he had bestowed upon me. While Benedictus began to speak, I studied the crowd.

In the gathered company I recognized the Duke August Foehammer, High Commander of Lynore Windstryke, and the Highlord Leoric von Zeldig, whom both survived the atrocities in Northrend. In the first row of notables I noticed Teer-An-Dah, the most prominent female Night Elf leader, better known as Tyrande Whisperwind. Quite a gorgeous creature indeed.

At one point, right in front of me, the lady Jaina Proudmoore's gaze crossed mine.

I remember the electric shock that went through me under her scrutinizing gaze. Clear blue eyes piercing my purple gaze, sending shivers through my body. The gaze lingered long, too long. Then she turned to Vareesa Windrunner, standing very close to her, whispering something. Vareesa looked my way.

Jaina's ministrations suddenly bring me back into the present with a rude delight. She kisses my neck, bites me, pulling my hair. I sense her hot breath on me, coming in choked gasps, her rock-hard nipples on my back. She groans with that delicious horny voice of hers. A sound that almost makes me come undone. A few moments later, the powerful sorceress grabs my right arm and turns it backwards, pushing my hand on her own cunt, my face still pressed against the bed.

"Now be a good girl and exchange the courtesy while I pleasure you," the blonde breathes low and demandingly into my ear. She resumes her ministrations, speeding up the tempo, increasing the pressure. I feel her dripping wet womanhood against my hand, and I know that I am lost.

I grab uncontrollably at Jaina's pussy. Her breath in my ear, the powerful Archmage thrusting in and out of me, now moaning in open delight. I know we both have reached the edge.

My whole body pulls together and explodes in a violent discharge. While I ride out my orgasm, screaming and whimpering, I force myself with every ounce of concentration that I can muster to keep on touching my beloved Archmage.

This is all she needs.

She pushes her red-hot core against my hand, once, twice, and then she throws her spasming body onto mine. She cries out my name, cries out to her former tutor, the Archmage Antonidas. And then her screaming and wailing slowly changes into a soft sobbing.


	4. Chapter 4: Deeply rooted

**Eyes on fire**

 **Chapter 4: Deeply rooted**

 **F/F, T, NC17,** Jaina Proudmoore/OC, Jaina Proudmoore/ Vereesa Windrunner, The Elf Pained, Vereesa Windrunner, Tarlen Aubrey, Shandris Feathermoon, Kinndy Sparkshine, Tyrande Whisperwind, Romance, Angst, Hurt, Fluff, Power Struggle, Lesbian Sex, Powerful women, Cataclysm, World of Warcraft before the destruction of Theramore, the Battle of Mount Hyjal, Southern Barrens,Ratchet, Camp Taurajo, Northwatch Hold, Theramore Citadel,Warlock, Mage, lots of canon lore.

 _When the heath of the moment is quenched, Jaina laughs through her tears. But the problems have only just begun. The delegates of the Southern Barrens will arrive soon, and Vereesa Windrunner appears to be a factor that Morgana has not taken into account._

* * *

 **Personal note: I hope you guys and galls like the unfolding of the story. I've been struggling a bit with verb times. Morgana's story is always in present time. Jaina's is in past tense. It's an experiment, due to storyline. I love to hear what yu think.**

 **Note 2: timeline is set shortly before the destruction of Theramore. This story contains a lot of canon lore, partly based on the book** _ **Arthas, Rise of the Lich King**_ **, by Christie Golden.**

 **Note 3: inspiration for the first chapters was based on the track: Blue Foundation –** _ **Eyes on fire**_ **.**

 **Disclaimer: sadly enough, Jaina Proudmoore and other WoW-characters are not mine by right or imagination. I wish. The young warlock Morgana however, is entirely mine.**

* * *

I hold Jaina firmly, my eyes closed. We shudder and groan under our breath, both vibrating in post-orgasmic ecstasy.

She rolls away from me and falls on the sheets. I slowly return to the moment, muttering some last, indistinct words of delight, my body recovering from the violent contractions.

I smell the sweet odour of sex, mixed with the wonderful scent of her delicate, pale skin, and hold my breath, drinking in the moment.

Then I wait, painfully aware of what is to come.

Jaina grabs me, pulls my naked body over hers. I hear her soft sobbing and my stomach contracts.

"Morgana… O darling…"

I lie on top of the incredibly beautiful woman and look at her. Messy blond locks, the grey streak sticking to her heated face. The early morning sunlight streams through the window, softening the image of my beloved Archmage with a golden glow. She cries desperately now, holding me very close. She does not look at me, but stares into a void behind me, hot tears tickling my cheek.

Then, a firm two knocks on the door. "Jaina? Morgana? Are you… alright? The delegates of the Southern Barrens will arrive in two hours… We should… prepare…?"

I can sense the mixture of desire and resentment in the voice of Pained. Jaina's Elven bodyguard does her best to hide her crush on Jaina. She does not succeed very well. She must have been behind the doors of Jaina's private quarters all morning.

I would not want to trade places with her, I think.

Pained was assigned as bodyguard to Jaina by Tyrande Whisperwind during the Battle of Mount Hyjal. She remained with Jaina afterwards, claiming she had never officially been relieved of her duty.

The claim worked out well for her, I guess. She performs her duty as bodyguard very well. A pity that she feels the need to repeatedly remind Jaina of how they know nothing about my past. I know she regularly informs Jaina of how 'dangerous and unpredictable' I am.

I also know the Elf often listens to our love making, behind the closed doors. It's not hard to feel her desire to be _the one_. I get it that she resents me. Yet, I like her. A sentiment that is not shared, I guess.

I realize how fortunate I am, to have the powerful and much desired Archmage in my arms. Then again, how fortunate is the leader of the Kirin Tor to have me? Watching over her, loving her, pleasuring her. Understanding her. Like nobody else does. Or ever could.

I respect the Archmage's private thoughts and emotions. As I wish she would mine. But I have reached my limits. This needs to stop. I don't understand what is happening to her now. Something is very amiss, beyond our 'usual' troubles.

"Everything is okay," I call to Pained, "just give us a few more minutes!"

The Elf walks away and Jaina looks at me gratefully, a bit naughty now, laughing through her tears.

I pull her face towards me, very gently, my purple gaze piercing her blue stare.

"My sweet, beautiful Jaina. Will you not you tell me what ails you so?," I whisper.

Her gaze shifts and she looks at me long, intrudingly, deeply troubled.

"I… I wish I could tell you…," she suddenly sobs. "I… I myself am not sure what happens to me ... I'm so sorry. I am _so_ sorry, my sweet love...".

She tries to regain composure and brings her hands to her face, trying to wipe away the tears, covering her eyes. Her grief is getting more urgent now, and I feel so damned bad about having pressed her. The exhilarating power struggle that we fought before has completely disappeared.

"My dreams… My dreams are… My dreams are not ordinary dreams. They are horrible, and I do not want to know! I cannot deal with it… I cannot deal with any more loss and loneliness!" she shouts.

Thick tears roll down Jaina Proudmoore's cheeks as she looks at me in despair.

"Sssh, my love… Hush now… I am here, calm down…". I grab her even more firmly and cradle her a bit, the powerful woman shivering in my arms. Her gaze so sweet and vulnerable that it almost tears me apart.

"Let us rest for now, and have a few moments to ourselves before duty calls, no?"

"Oh please Morgana," she sighs, gratefully relaxing in my grip. I watch her closing her eyes, her muscles tentatively releasing.

x-0-x

The sun has just begun its climb for the day, as Jaina and I join our allies in the Guard Quarters of the Theramore Citadel. Gathered around the massive, silver oaken war table are the Admiral Tarlen Aubrey, the Elven Ranger-General Vereesa Windrunner, the Elven sentinel Shandris Feathermoon, and Jaina's apprentice - the Gnome Kinndy Sparkshine. Pained stays outside with the guards. I am siding Jaina, as I always do.

I realise that I am being protective, possessive. I just can't help myself. The Ranger-General looks at me, one eyebrow slightly raised, her gaze amused.

The Steamwheedle Cartel-captain Thalo'thas Brightsun, and the Tauren warrior Jorn Skyseer will soon make their appearance. We take things as they stand.

Thalo'thas Brightsun makes camp in Ratchet. He commands the Thalo'dan Privateers, and obviously expresses open hostility to the Alliance forces at the Northwatch Hold, after Jaina's attack on his ships, off the coast of Theramore.

The Tauren Warchief Jorn Skyseer used to lead the Taurajo-Camp in the Southern Barrens, near the mountain pass leading to Mulgore. During the events of the Cataclysm, Jaina commanded the destruction of Camp Taurajo, in order to secure our offensive against the Horde.

The attack on Taurajo was a very unfortunate event. I am amongst the very few whom know that Jaina made that decision based on false information, that the Tauren were planning an attack on Theramore. The Tauren Warchief Jorn Skyseer was one of the very few that survived the attack.

It is not that difficult to understand why both gentlemen have a deeply rooted hatred for the Alliance, and for Jaina in particular.

The Archmage leads the meeting as she always does; directive, clear and with integrity. I just hope I am the only one to sense her loss of strength. To notice her shakiness.

"So, Admiral, what is the status of our fleet?"

Upon Jaina's request, Admiral Aubrey, leader of Northwatch Hold, gives her a full report of the status of our fleet off the coast of Theramore. A fully operational gryphon-crossing has been established, and the Alliance has begun the construction of a massive highway from Theramore, through the Dustwallow Marsh, into the Southern Barrens.

Jaina validates the report with a short nod, and turns her gaze to the Ranger-General.

Vereesa remains silent and studies her. The silence lasts long, too long. The women keep staring at each other and I observe Jaina's eyelid twitching.

I do not think anyone notices it. But I see the looks they exchange. I can sense the hidden passion that speaks from their gaze. They challenge each other wordlessly.

My resentment for the beautiful Ranger-General grows with the minute. Vereesa is right in front of Jaina, at the other side of the table. The encouraging nod she gives Jaina does not escape me.

"My much respected leader of Theramore," the Elf begins. "The Admiral started the construction of a highway from Theramore into the Southern Barrens, thus allowing us a quicker movement of supplies and troops into Horde territory. Ironically, the same Cataclysm that helped our invasion into the Southern Barrens, has greatly hampered my ultimate goal of joining with our Night Elf-allies in the North. This, of course, threatens our very survival, and it is reflected in the Horde's increasingly desperate tactics. We have destroyed Camp Taurajo, and fortified the Northwatch Hold as a second stronghold against what will no doubt be a merciless retaliation by the Horde. How do you wish to proceed from here?"

Vereesa openly challenges Jaina. Just for a brief moment she shifts her gaze to mine, looking at me triumphantly.

I keep my gaze natural, but I can see the painful look in Jaina's eyes, being reminded of her devastatingly wrong decision to attack Camp Taurajo, based on the false information of the Blood Elf Thalen Songweaver, a Horde traitor within the Kirin Tor.

Jaina stares at the Elf for a long time. I sense desire, pain and anger. Then my beloved gives Vereesa a resolute answer, her voice suddenly very cold and demanding.

"We will not, _ever_ , give in to the demands of Thalo'thas Brightsun, nor to Warchief Jorn Skyseer. We will never give in to the demands of the Horde. Am I clear on this? Obviously, mistakes were made. I take full responsibility, Ranger-General. Difficult decisions were to be made. You are welcome to make them in my place, if you think you can do better than me."

Vereesa keeps a straight face, nods at Jaina. The power struggle they exchange, crackles through the room like lightning.

Jaina has never told me what happened between the two, but it's clear like a frostbolt that the attractive, powerful women are not finished with each other yet.


	5. Chapter 5 Pleasantries

**Eyes on fire**

 **Chapter 5: Pleasantries**

 **F/F, T, NC17, Jaina Proudmoore/OC, Jaina Proudmoore/Vereesa Windrunner, The Elf Pained, Vereesa Windrunner, Tarlen Aubrey, Shandris Feathermoon, Kinndy Sparkshine, Tyrande Whisperwind, Innkeeper Janene, Power Struggle, Powerful women, Cataclysm, World of Warcraft before the destruction of Theramore, the Battle of Mount Hyjal, Southern Barrens, Ratchet, Camp Taurajo, Northwatch Hold, Theramore Citadel, Warlock, Mage, Hunter, lots of canon lore.**

 _Jaina and friends meet up with a horde delegation. The mutual pressure is higher than that in front of the delegation. Morgana and Vereesa have a confrontation. Morgana is in a romantic relationship with Jaina Proudmoore, but it seems that Jaina has a secret history with the Elven Ranger._

 **Personal note** : I'm exploring the personal experiences of the characters involved in the destruction of Theramore. The young, female (OC) Warlock Morgana is central to the events, in my story. In canon lore, Jaina is often portrayed as a rigid character, without much of a personal life. I have always wondered who her close friends and enemies were, at the time of the destruction of Theramore.

I have had little time to write. It's been a hot summer in the Netherlands . I hope you enjoy my view of events. Let me know!

 **Note 2** : timeline is set shortly before the destruction of Theramore. This story contains a lot of canon lore, partly based on the books _Arthas, Rise of the Lich King_ , by Christie Golden, and _Night of The Dragon_ by Richard A. Knaak.

 **Note 3** : inspiration for the first chapters was based on the track: _Blue Foundation – Eyes on fire_.

 **Disclaimer** : sadly enough, Jaina Proudmoore and other WoW-characters are not mine by right or imagination. I wish. The young warlock Morgana however, is entirely mine.

The tension in the Guard Quarters of the Theramore Citadel is rising.

I try to keep out my personal feelings for Jaina, but it is an almost inhumane task.

Many of our allies like to think that that's exactly what I am: _inhuman_.

How little do they know. About the past I share with them, nor of the deep feelings I have for their leader.

They see what they want to see, project their own existential fears of the unknown onto me.

For a long time, I thought I didn't care.

I look at Jaina's beautiful face, the grim pull around her mouth, the grey streak of worries and sadness in her hair. She is the only one who trusts me unconditionally.

For the first time, it hurts.

Fear, hurt, hope, love... The most common traits of Humans, I think. I wonder if that also goes for the proud, ever-preserved Elves.

Jaina has vigorously put Vereesa in place, making it clear there will be no bowing to the Horde, whatever Vereesa's intentions with our Night Elf-allies in the North.

The Ranger-General looks at Jaina with a scorching anger, her silent rage filling the room.

I shiver involuntarily. For a moment I wonder what the outcome would be of a duel between the powerful Huntress and the Archmage.

Although no one exactly knows why - not even me - we all register that the ruling Elf has just tested Jaina.

Or so she tried.

Knowing the Elf, she will not forget Jaina's rebuke lightly. Shandris Feathermoon, the adopted daughter of Tyrande Whisperwind and now the Ranger-Generals right-hand, opens her mouth to say something, but doesn't. Instead, she puts a hand on Vereesa's arm, harvesting a deadly look from the Ranger.

Everyone at the table knows that Shandris and her Sentinels will never, ever, answer to anyone other than Tyrande Whisperwind, when it comes down to it. A far-famed fact, that obviously enrages Vereesa even more.

The Admiral is not oblivious to what is going on, but maintains a blank expression. Tarlen Aubrey is not a man to get involved in female drama and whining, or any other bullshit.

I thank The Ancients for Jaina's ever cheerful apprentice Kinndy Sparkshine, and her silly jokes.

"Weeee, the vigor!" she suddenly shouts in a high pitched voice. "Let us not go for each other's throats now, shall we? Hi hi hi. You know... even squirrels can be deadly when cornered!"

She giggles nervously. For a few seconds the suspense is killing, but then Tarlen, Jaina and myself laugh in relief.

Even Vereesa smiles.

The daughter of the infamous Gnome, Windle Sparkshine, brings her arms up for a small, theatrical bow. Jaina smiles at her gratefully.

"Hey, all I ever wanted to do was study," the Archmage jokes. Her good mood is returning. She gestures at the servant who is unobtrusively standing in a corner of the room. "Get us some honeymint tea, please? And serve it with some of those delicious mana cakes, if you will." Then she addresses the company seriously again.

"Time is of the essence. We should press forward, now the enemy is at a disadvantage."

x-0-x

It is noon when I walk from the Foothold Citadel, past the Theramore Training Ground, to the inn. The sun is darkened by heavy storm clouds, and a strong wind makes my hair flutter. A mist is setting in from the sea.

I pull my Mantle of the Felseekers closer around me.

The meeting went as expected. Thalo'thas Brightsun and Jorn Skyseer acknowledged the obsession of their Warchief Garrosh Hellscream with assuring the Horde's supremacy over Kalimdor. They remain loyal, however, and will never allow the Alliance a safe passage through the Dustwallow Marsh, into the Southern Barrens. Jaina has expressed her deepest regret about the attack on Camp Taurajo, a statement that was met with sheer contempt.

I think of Jaina's nightmares, her outburst this morning, and an ominous feeling comes over me.

The Archmage has withdrawn to her tower, with Pained and Kinndy in her wake. The Admiral is escorting the horde delegation back to the gates of Northwatch Hold.

Vereesa and Shandris are heading back for Dalaran, I suppose.

Innkeeper Janene sweeps the floor and greets me cheerfully.

"Welcome to my inn, weary traveller. What can I do for you?" she chatters.

"Hello Janene, you're in a good mood."

"O yes, I got some slimy mackerels from the fishermen this morning, care for some swamp fish 'n chips?"

Slimy mackerel. My stomach turns. How I long for a good mammoth meal or Northern stew. I guess I lived amongst Dwarves for too long.

"That sounds delicious, but I think I'll stick to a loaf of spice bread and some Stormwind-brie."

"Ah, you were never the adventurous type," she laughs. "All right, suit yourself! I'll treat you to a darkbrew lager to drown your sorrows."

I take a good sip of my lager and think about the meeting. Scouts have informed Jaina that The Blue Dragonflight has begun to splinter, having lost the Aspects' powers. The Focusing Iris, a magical Dragon-artefact of great power, is to be moved to a more secure location. Vereesa's husband Rhonin has requested Kalecgos, the new leader of the Blue Dragonflight, to come to our aid. The dragon should be here in a few days.

Jaina and Kalecgos have been friends for a long time. Does she trust him? Does she trust Rhonin and Vereesa? I sure as hell don't. Everyone but Jaina seems to have an agenda of their own.

I almost choke in a next sip when the door of the inn swings open with a bang. Vereesa is in the doorway, her cowl swept back. Long, silver coloured locks whirl around her head in a gust of wind. She looks around. When she spots me, she closes the door, puts back her cowl and walks over to me.

"Morgana. I never thought you for one to drink lager at noon. Then again, you _did_ spent much of your time amongst the smaller kind. Their habits must have rubbed off on you. May I join you?"

I am flabbergasted. How does she know about my past? What more does she know? What does she want from me?

This is the first time ever, that Vereesa and I speak to each other.

"Vereesa. What a nice surprise. I never thought _you_ one for pleasantries."


	6. Chapter 6: I still feel it

The Ranger ignores my remark and takes the chair opposite of me. Janene serves my food and looks slightly worried. "You galls all right?"

Poor sweetheart. I feel bad already.

"Smelly cheesy and lager? Oh my. Such delightful human offerings," Vereesa sneers. "Well, what do you think Janene? We couldn't be much better, right?"

I am suddenly aware of the smell of the cheese, and I feel embarrassed. Vereesa has us right where she wants us. Clever Elf.

"You can take the food back Janene, thank you. I'm… not that hungry anymore".

Vereesa smiles sordidly as Janene miserably takes the food and leaves us. "Does my presence disturb you, young Human?"

"Are you here to talk about my age, Elf? Because it seems to me you have far more important matters at hand."

"Hmmm yes… Feisty! I can see why Jaina likes you. Obviously your vivacity is the quality that has Jaina all worked up, hm? … However… Jaina and I … We have a history of our own, did you know? Ahhh… I can tell by the looks on your face that you do not! Do you remember the Honour Delegation in Stormwind, my dear girl? Off course you do. Remember standing in that shadowy alcove, left to the god forsaken Stormwind Throne?"

O, yes I remember. The dome-shaped hall of the Stormwind Keep, packed with everyone in the Alliance whom mattered, surrounded by the Royal Guard. I remember Vareesa, her husband Rhonin, and Jaina, in the front row.

I remember. The first time I ever laid eyes on Jaina Proudmoore.

At first, she was just an older - though beautiful - very powerful, female Mage to me. That was just my frame of reference, at the time. What did I know. I knew nothing about love, that's for sure.

Mvrik was the first person I thought I loved. I loved our shared humanness. I loved the way he touched my body. No one ever touched my body in such a loving way, such a caring way, after my parents died in Dalaran. My Dwarven surrogate parents were always good to me. But deep down, I felt abandoned. Alone. Unsafe.

In my body I felt pain, anxiety, loss. So I left my body. I got settled in my mind. Quiet the comfy place. The warrior spirit that my Dwarven parents taught me, became my story. I adopted the Stone Form. The more I cast that Dwarven-spell, the more my heart became set in stone.

Mvrik touched me. Every part of me that he touched, I started to feel. My skin, my limbs, my heart. It was as if I was brought back from death. I felt alive, his touch energised me.

I can still feel it now.

I still love him for that.

But when I look back at my time with Jaina, in the light of my love for her… I know now that I didn't have clue. My love for Mvrik will always be. But it is of a very different order, than that for Jaina.

O yes. I remember that day, Vereesa. I remember standing still like a rogue in that shadowy alcove. Observing. Collecting data. Reading minds and faces.

I remember lurking in that dark corner of the dome-shaped hall of the Stormwind Keep. And I remember the Archmage. How could I ever forget.

The golden-bluish tunic. The shiny black-metallic pauldrons. I remember her beautiful grey-stricken blond locks. A result of her damnations, or so I had been told.

But most of all, I remember her gaze, when it met mine.

I thought I was invisible. She saw me. I was utterly lost in those bright blue eyes, that seemed to have universes congealed inside.

Nothing in the vast expanse of Azeroth could have prepared me, nor Jaina, for this leap of faith.

Pondering this, I feel a deep love for Jaina, for my heritance, and The Path - that all in Azeroth will have to walk. The Archmage of Kalimdor, the rightful ruler of Theramore. The Protector of innocent souls. That woman is my love. And I will stride along Jaina Proudmore until my last breath.

"Yes Elf. I remember standing in that shadowy alcove. I remember the first time that my eyes were focused on the dignified reverence that is Jaina Proudmore. And as far as I know, she has the unconditional, full power of the High King Varian Wrynn. And what is it exactly, that you bring to the table?".


End file.
